


Anytime

by annablack1102



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 00:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annablack1102/pseuds/annablack1102
Summary: Jesus lends his trailer to some of the alexandrians but finds himself needing some alone time. All goes well until he's interrupted. Then things get even better.





	Anytime

**Author's Note:**

> I've held on to this for a while and finally finished it so I decided to post it. Let me know what you think!

Some days Jesus hated his body. He hated the way it reacted and how obvious it was. For instance, when Daryl was bent over fixing himself a bed on the floor of the trailer… yeah his body reacted to that. Didn't exactly help that the clothes he'd given Daryl to borrow were a bit too small so the jeans left nothing to the imagination. And the shirt stretched over his muscles…. 

Yeah he needed to get out of there before one of them noticed. Maggie was already passed out on the cot, Sasha was lying on the couch, and Enid had her own little corner. His living room was full of bodies and despite offering his bedroom several times, they all declined. 

He bid them a good night and turned into his room before he could embarrass himself. He laid in bed and willed his erection to go down. It didn't feel right to touch himself with his guests in the other room. Not to mention the day they had, spending the day on the back of a motorcycle as they sped away from Daryl’s captors. He thought about that ride, pressed up against Daryl’s back because the seat was so damn small. His arms wrapped around his torso, feeling the muscles underneath that sweaty shirt he had on. Shit, this wasn't helping. If anything his problem had only gotten worse. 

He'd had a thing for Daryl pretty much since the day they met. He'd noticed his attraction for the other man early on, paying attention to the way the muscles in his arm rippled as he pointed a gun in his face. Not to mention that deep, rough voice of his. How often had he thought about that damn voice since that day? Thinking about him muttering filthy things to him as they rolled around in bed together. 

Fuck that man was gorgeous. And it was with that thought that had Jesus giving into his needs and pulling his aching member out of his pants. He stroked it lazily, trying not to think about anything in particular. It didn't feel fair to think about Daryl in that way, especially after all he'd been through. But he couldn't help himself, his mind wandered to that dirty redneck once again. He bit his lip as he imagined what it would feel like to be under him. What his cock might feel like as he thrust inside his tight heat. God it had been so long since he'd been fucked. He practically whimpered at the thought. He briefly considered fucking himself on his fingers but was grateful he didn't break out the lube yet as a soft knock sounded on the door. 

He felt like a teenager again, hurrying to stuff himself back into his sweatpants. He cleared his throat and called for them to come in, covering himself with a blanket. The last thing he needed was for Enid to come in looking for a book and find him touching himself like a pervert. Of course, he wasn't at all expecting for the same man he’d been thinking about to open his door with a guilty look on his face. 

“Daryl? What's wrong?” Jesus asked, sitting up a bit. Daryl chewed on his lip and walked in further, closing the door behind him. A million scenarios played in his head as he was suddenly alone with the man, all of which were coming straight from the pulsing head between his legs and not at all helping the situation. 

“Can't sleep. Thought ya might be up…” Daryl said awkwardly, not meeting his eyes. Jesus's face softened as he looked at the other man. 

“You wanna sit?” He offered, pulling his legs up to give him room. He wondered if he could adjust himself without being too obvious. But Daryl would probably catch onto the motion pretty quick. The redneck chewed his thumbnail for a moment before taking the offered seat. They sat quietly for awhile, long enough for Jesus’s body to calm down. Eventually he couldn't take the silence anymore. “So why can't you sleep?” He asked, noticing Daryl flinched slightly. 

After that, Daryl was quiet again for so long Jesus didn't think he was going to answer. It actually surprised him when he opened his mouth to reply. “Every time I close my eyes, feels like I'm back there. Sittin’ in that damn box. Keep waitin’...” He cut off and swallowed the lump in his throat with a shrug. Jesus sighed, wishing he'd never had to endure that. He wasn't even sure what they'd done but from the little bits he'd told them, it wasn't anything good. And he looked like he hadn't eaten a real meal in days, judging from how he scarfed down the food he’d given him earlier.

Jesus thought how he could make things easier for him. He could use some normality and comfort. But he wasn't sure he was the one to give it to him. They hardly knew each other and hadn't exactly started off on the right foot. But Daryl came to him so he'd do what he could. “Do you want to sleep in here? With me?” He asked and watched as Daryl’s head whipped up to look at him like he'd started speaking another language. “I was just thinking...maybe being on the soft bed, laying next to a warm body… might help you ground yourself, realize you're not back there. That you're safe.” 

Daryl looked at his hands with a furrowed brow and Jesus half expected him to decline. He glanced his way for a moment before speaking up. “Your bed ain't that big.” He said, looking at the full sized mattress. Jesus let out a soft chuckle. 

“Don't worry, I don't move much in my sleep.” He said and patted the bed beside him. Daryl stared at that spot for a long moment but eventually gave in and crawled in beside him, sitting awkwardly against the headboard. Jesus turned out the lantern on his bedside table and laid down. At least his erection had gone away although his body was left feeling unsatisfied. They both lay there in silence for a while, aware that the other wasn't sleeping yet. He turned on his side, trying to get comfortable. He felt Daryl shift in bed too and their feet touched. He expected Daryl to flinch away but if anything his feet shifted closer. 

Jesus decided to test his luck and rubbed his foot against the hunter’s. He was surprised when Daryl’s toes curled to run along the underside of his foot. He bit his lip as the sensation went straight to his cock. It must have been far too long if he was getting hard by some guy playing footsie with him. He sighed and flopped onto his stomach, burrowing his face in the pillow. 

“Sorry..” Daryl grumbled and pulled his foot away, obviously thinking he'd bothered him. 

“Oh no, it's not...you're fine Daryl.” Jesus said, his face turning red. He was grateful it was dark. Although not dark enough that he couldn't see Daryl. He glanced over and found him with an arm thrown over his eyes. He took the opportunity to check him out a bit, his eyes glazing over the shirt he'd lent the hunter. It stretched over his muscles in all the best ways. He kept offering to get him something that might fit him a little looser but Daryl had assured him it was fine. Told him to shut up about it once and he left it alone after that. He let his eyes wander a bit too and found the pants he'd given him. Only they were a bit tighter on him than he remembered. 

“Huh.” He let out without realizing. Daryl dropped his arm to look at him but he didn't move his gaze from the bulge in those jeans. “Guess I'm not the only one then.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned on his side. 

“The hell ya talkin’-” Daryl’s words froze on his lips and Jesus knew he was looking at the tent in his sweatpants. 

“We match.” Jesus said teasingly with a smirk. Now he was wishing it wasn't dark so he could see the blush he was sure would he spreading across Daryl’s cheeks. 

The hunter was quiet, but he could hear his breath quicken and felt him tense beside him. Jesus sat up so he was leaning on his elbow and noticed Daryl looked like he wanted to bolt. From the room, possibly from the Hilltop altogether. 

“I could take care of that for you….” Jesus offered without really thinking about it. His desire to get his hands on the man beside him was greatly outweighing the logical side of his brain. The side that knew Daryl didn't like to be touched in general...and he just offered to touch his cock. He heard the sharp intake of breath though and couldn’t help himself. He scooted a little closer his hand inching across the space between them, staring at Daryl and waiting for the inevitable rejection. It never came. 

“Fuck…” Daryl breathed as Jesus palmed him gently. That egged him on and he hurried to get those jeans undone before the other man could change his mind. He slipped his hand beneath the briefs he was wearing and wrapped it around the thick, pulsing member. Daryl was a lot harder than he expected he'd be and Jesus nearly whimpered. Daryl on the other hand definitely did. The noise that came out of the hunters mouth was not something Jesus had ever expected to hear from him. Neither was the soft “please” that slipped out as well. 

“I got you…” Jesus promised softly, stroking the hardness in his hand. Daryl was larger than himself, maybe not by length but definitely in girth. He was dying to feel that inside him, stretching him out farther than he'd been in a long time. He used his free hand to yank at the waistband of his pants to he could pull Daryl’s cock out and get a better angle with it. 

It had nothing to do with wanting to see what was between those legs. No, definitely not. Either way, he certainly wasn't disappointed with what he saw. Or the soft moan tumbling from Daryl’s mouth as he got a good grip. He swirled the head with his thumb, catching the pre-cum gathering at the slit. He stroked the underside gently, rewarded with another moan from Daryl. He was throbbing in his own pants and resisting against humping Daryl’s leg for some damn friction. 

He groaned in frustration at how keyed up he was, wondering if he’d be able to touch himself and Daryl and still make it good. He doubted it, the angle was to awkward and he was leaning half on his elbow at this point. 

Jesus was just about to give into that urge to thrust against something, his body overcome with need, when a different hand sneaked over and rubbed him over his sweatpants. He gasped and rocked against the touch eagerly. 

Was this really happening? This wasn't some sick wet dream he was having? He really hoped not. He would be so pissed, and beyond embarrassed. He wouldn't be able to face Daryl if that were the case. 

Thankfully this felt very real. And oh so good. Not even just because something other than his own damn hand was touching his dick but because it was Daryl. The same guy who punched him, called him a prick, and threaten to put him up in a tree all in the same day they met. That man was now rubbing him, pulling his sweatpants down to get his hand around his aching cock. 

Jesus had to remind himself that they weren't alone in the trailer to keep him from moaning like a whore when Daryl touched him, skin on skin. “Fuck...oh fuck Daryl.” He moaned softly. He'd somehow scooted closer and ended up with his face in Daryl's neck. He could feel the other man’s breath in his ear, loud and fast. 

They set a slow rhythm, just enjoying the sensation of being touched. But when Daryl started thrusting up into his hand he couldn't help but pick up the pace. He spit into his hand and started stroking him harder, noticing the guttural moan coming from the man beside him as he did that. He smirked, amused by how he was able to turn this man on. This man that he still wasn't even sure was gay. But he certainly wasn't complaining about what they were up to. 

Jesus was so wrapped up in pleasuring Daryl that he didn't notice him bring his own hand up until he heard him spit as well, adding the lubrication to make this even better. He was pretty sure his eyes rolled back in his head a bit when Daryl’s hand returned. 

“M’gettin’ close…” Daryl muttered in the roughest, sexiest southern drawl Jesus had ever heard. That sound alone, along with its implication, made Jesus impossibly harder and his dick twitched in Daryl’s hand. 

“Fuck yes...wanna feel you come…” Jesus breathed, kissing just under Daryl’s jaw. That little touch, so tender and sweet, surprised Daryl enough that he flew over the edge with a moan. He had to bite his lip to muffle the sound. 

Jesus thrust his hips up into Daryl’s hand, which had stopped moving, and kept thrusting until he was coming as well. A string of curses fell out of his lips, buried in Daryl’s shoulder as wave after wave fell over him. He was positive he hadn't come that hard in months. 

“Holy shit…” Jesus gasped as he came down. He was pretty sure he heard Daryl huff a laugh beside him but too blissed out to really notice. He caught his breath and looked at Daryl. “Soo, uhm--”

“Don't.” Daryl stopped him. “Don't make it weird.” 

Jesus grinned and fixed his pants, grabbing a dirty sock to wipe his hand with. Daryl did the same and laid back on the bed. 

“Thanks. For lettin’ me stay here I mean.” Daryl said and Jesus could practically feel the blush radiating off of him. 

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are like hugs to writers.


End file.
